“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said after he left.
“Why not?”
“Because Marilyn might not fall for that line I’m going to hand her. That would only go where you’re not buying me very many drinks. If you kept on buying me drinks, she’d know darn well I wouldn’t give a hang who you looked at.”
“Mercenary, eh?” I asked, smiling.
She said, “You’re damn right I’m mercenary. What did you think this was, love at first sight?”
I laughed.
She said somewhat wistfully, “It may be at that. You’re a good kid. You can always tell them, the fellows that treat us like ladies... Marilyn’s turning around. Start staring at her. I’ll pretend I’m sore.”
I stared at Marilyn. She was rather tall, slender, with dark hair, somewhat deep-set black eyes, and a mouth made up so that the lips were a thick, crimson smear across the olive of her face.
I saw her start to turn away, then suddenly turn back, and realized that the girl at my table had given her some sort of a signal.
For a moment she looked full at me, and I caught the impact of her dark, feverish eyes; then she turned away, standing so that I could see the long curves of her body beneath the red gown which clung to her like wet silk.